Oh how times change, in the blink of a eye

Mothers-day day seems like it was yesterday, the rush of the morning, getting the kids all ready to go to the grandparents house.  They were all trying to give me mothers-day cards but I just wanted to get everyone ready to go, I really wasn't in a good mood, but I pushed through, smiled, thanked, and got another child dressed.  Then there was the quiet argument in the front seat of the car between me and my husband to turn around and pick up my cell phone I left at home on the counter, I'm not usually that attached to my cell phone, but there was something about that day, and we were only a few houses away from home.  We never did turn around which made for a quiet trip for about 1/2 the drive, but we eventually forgot about it and moved on.  The joyful arrival at the inlaws, greeting those we haven't seen since the last holiday or longer.  Watching the kids play, chatting about whats new with everyone.  The music, that got my attention, of all songs, the radio was playing Margaritaville, one song I always associate with my dad.  In my youth he threw big parties, he proudly named Margaritaville, I really believe this had a big influence on my choice on never wanting to drink, hating alcohol, even the smell of certain drinks make me gag.  I am suddenly yanked back to reality when my husband yells from across the lawn, "I just got a message on my phone, something has happened with your dad, you need to call your mom right now!"

My first phone call, my mom picks up, she is crying, can't talk, and hangs up. I call back, my sister answers and says they found my dad in his garage unconscious and he is being rushed to the hospital.  I drop everything, my husband grabs the keys and off we go, leaving the children with his parents.  I wonder why he wasn't life flighted, it sounded serious. Maybe it isn't that bad, I tell myself, if he wasn't life flighted it could only mean one of 2 things. One, it isn't that bad, or two, it is so bad that even life flight wouldn't get him there on time. I share my thoughts with my husband and he agrees with my logic, although I can tell by his voice that he is just agreeing with me because he doesn't want to tell me it is probably the second of the 2.  His parents live close to the hospital so we arrive at the same time the ambulance pulls in, I jump from the car and run to the ambulance bay, where they pull my dad out, one paramedic immediately jump on top of him, and starts rapid chest compressions as they run him in to the hospital.  I know they were running, but for a brief moment, as they passed me, time stopped.  Everything stopped as my eyes met his eyes, the whole world vanished and for a brief moment it was just me and my dad.  His eyes stared at me, looking so scared, yet so empty, we just looked into each others eyes and I slowly and quietly choked out, "Don't worry dad, I'm here for you", then they vanished into a room.

Everything started moving fast again, my husband was there, nurses were there, I was signing papers for treatment and being led to a private room.  Why did it have to be a private room?  Good news never comes from a "private room"!  I want to sit in the regular waiting room, I don't want to be here.  Why didn't we go to my parents house first, we always got to my parents house first.  We are suppose to be over there in just a few hours for dinner and to finish making plans to move their big play house to our yard for the kids.  We started this yesterday, he brought some of the parts of the swing set part over to our house, Ty was so cute when grandpa left, he was saying "bye bye" and pushing on the back of my dad's truck to help his truck move.  Did the kids all say good-bye? Did I say good-bye?  Did I give him a hug? Did I thank him for the swing set?  Did I say I love you?

I take one look at my husband, in this "private room" that is getting smaller by the second, and say "he's gone, I just know it, his eyes.... were just..... so empty".  I never really knew what someone meant when they talked about someones eye's being empty, now I do, and if you have never seen it there is no way to describe it, it's just empty.  I sit down and the doctor comes in, he explains they are doing everything possible but they need to know how far to go, what to do, what would his wishes be, living will?

No, not today, where is my mom?  My sister? Anyone!  I don't want to make this decision, I can't even hear what the doctor is really saying, no matter what they do, he will never be off life support.  "That's not what he would want, he is so active, he always has to be doing something, he wouldn't want to be kept alive laying on a bed not even conscious, not able to do things".  The doctor leaves.  Did I really just say that?  I pray, quietly and silently "I know my dad has been sick for years, bad heart, bad knees, rheumatoid arthritis, and many other things other things, too many to list.  I pray, God, not for me, but for him.  I leave him in your hands. I know you know what is best and I know you will heal him, even if it isn't the way I want."

My mom arrives moments later, followed by my sister, then the doctor enters before we have a chance to update everyone.  It really feels like it has only been a few minutes since the doctor left the room, since I made the decision not to keep my dad alive on life support, did he even have time to make it back to my dad's room, it wasn't that short of a walk.  But I knew the moment the second doctor walked in that the news was not what we wanted to hear.  He was gone.

I can't tell you what all happened after that, I know there were many painful phone calls, that I gave him a kiss and said good-bye before leaving the hospital.  I can't believe I was there for several hours, it seemed like minutes.  The next week was filled with funeral planning and decisions.  Decisions I still wonder if they were correct.  Then it has just been life, one day and one painful moment, at a time.  Days... many, many days that I could hardly even drag myself out of bed, much less do anything else.  Days that no mater how many people are around me, I still feel so alone, empty, like something inside of me died. Then there are the nights, nights that are just filled with tears.  The quiet gets me, when everyone is asleep and I no longer have to hold it back, no longer have to act strong for my kids, for my husband, pretend nothing is wrong, like nothing happened, like nothing has changed when everything has changed.  When I no longer can hold it back, that's when the tears come, that's when I shut down, sometimes for a few hours, sometimes I don't feel anything for days.  Asking myself, every day, every hour, did I make the correct decision when I told the doctors he didn't want to be kept alive on life support.  I know he had nearly no chance of ever living off life support, he would have just been a body, laying there, but was that the right decision?  Would that 1% chance of coming off life support, someday, would that have been all he needed, would he have beat the odds, would he have been that 1%?

In the back corner of my dad's garage sat the wine he made.  He loved to make wine, he was always trying to make a wine my mom would not just like, but love, he was darn near obsessed with it. Yesterday my husband moved the carboy of wine to my house, so I can try and figure out how to finish it and bottle it.  It has been sitting there several months, I hope it is still good.  I may not know what I am doing, but I am determined to bottle it in his honor.  I tasted it this week, and it tastes good, I hope that is a good sign.  I may despise alcohol, but I do enjoy a glass of wine now and then, especially if a side of prime rib is included. This week I will start 2 more carboys of wine, He had just purchased the stuff to make some merlot and blackberry wines before he passed, this will be a learning opportunity for me.  And I will continue making wine in his honor, something I never thought I would say.

So as you can see, times have changed, so much, since mothers-day.  I am sure many more changes will come throughout my life, easy changes and hard changes, sometime painful changes, it is inevitable and there is nothing anyone can do to make it any different.   And while I know my children will want to celebrate mothers-day with me in the years to come, this is the second person close to me that I have lost on mothers-day (the first being my grandmother when I was 16)   So the next big change will be to figure out another way to celebrate mothers-day with my children, on another day, possibly even called something different.